


The Glow of the City

by romanticallyinept



Series: 100 Songs for MCU [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Casting Couch, Developing Relationship, Happy Ending, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Power Imbalance, Rape Recovery, Safewords, Self Care, actor!Bucky Barnes, auditions, casting director!Steve, no on-screen rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-06-27 00:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticallyinept/pseuds/romanticallyinept
Summary: Bucky is an aspiring actor. Steve is a casting director. In another life, Bucky would have called it fate. In this life, though, he's pretty sure it's just another cruel twist.But Steve is kind and Bucky is crushing, and maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to craft a happy ending out of tragedy.(Spoiler alert: he does).Now complete! Read the tags.





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky isn’t naive. He knows more about the harsh realities of the world than anyone should, knows that people are self-centered and can be cruel just for the sake of cruelty. He knows that making it won’t be easy, but that doesn’t change how much he _wants_. And that’s why he’s in Hollywood, fingers shaking as he opens the door to his new apartment.

_”Talk to me.”_

His sponsor’s voice is calm and even. Nat’s good like that. She knows how to keep him grounded without making him feel like an idiot for needing her in the first place. And when he does start to feel like that, she has no problem calling him out and metaphorically slapping him upside the head.

Pressing his phone between his cheek and shoulder, Bucky grabs his bags off the ground. “Just got home,” he says, walking sideways through the door and dropping the bags on the other side. “It’s… I’m fine. Breathing. It’s new."

On the other end of the line, Nat chuckles, and Bucky feels himself relax a little. “Shut up,” he says, but there’s no heat in his voice. 

_”You call me and then tell me to shut up? Remind me why I like you, Barnes.”_

Bucky grins, closing the door before leaning up against it. Nat is his sponsor, sure, but she’s also one of his closest friends despite the fact that they’ve never met in person. She’s West Coast, and he’s… he _was_ East Coast, he reminds himself. New beginnings and all that bullshit.

“I’m adorable,” he replies. “And I listen to you complain about how bad you are at relationships.”

Nat makes a disgruntled noise, and Bucky pushes off the door, making his way into the kitchen. Grocery shopping is priority #1 on his list, but it’s also something he can tackle tomorrow, after he sleeps and settles. 

_”Ass,”_ Nat grumbles. _“And here I was going to offer to buy you dinner and welcome you to my neck of the woods.”_

Bucky almost declines, out of force of habit. It’s been easier to say “no” than to go and deal with people’s awkward, probing questions - or worse, their sympathetic glances and pitying silence. But he knows Nat, and she’s not awkward or pitying, and turning down free food when he’s unemployed and new to town is just… stupid.

“I eat meat,” he reminds her. “No fancy vegan tapas bullshit, yeah?”

Nat laughs, full and loud. _”I was thinking pizza. That good enough, you heathen?”_

Pizza, Bucky thinks, sounds just about perfect.

* * *

Bucky’s Uber drops him off at the place later that night, and all of the tension that’s been building in Bucky’s chest since he got off the phone with Nat starts to ease away. He was expecting a crowd, having to deal with the press of strangers’ bodies all around him, but the joint is low-key and almost empty. How Nat managed to find an empty pizza place in Hollywood on a Friday night, Bucky doesn’t know, but he appreciates her all the more for it.

He sees a woman with long, red hair sitting at a table in a corner, and he’s not entirely sure what Nat looks like, but he does know about her hair. So he approaches the table, hands in his pockets, clearing his throat to get her attention. “Uh, hi. Natasha?”

The woman looks up and grins, stands, and for a moment Bucky thinks she’s going to drag him into a hug, and he feels his whole body tense in response. She doesn’t, though. She _does_ give a look that’s almost chastising, and then she holds out her fist. With a weak chuckle, Bucky taps their knuckles together. “Thanks,” he says, and Nat rolls her eyes. 

That’s half the reason he likes her so much. She doesn’t baby him, doesn’t tiptoe, doesn’t stand for any of his self-deprecating bullshit, either. She doesn’t ignore his past, his trauma, but she also doesn’t act like it’s the only important thing about him. 

“I was starting to think you were going to stand me up.”

Buck glances at his watch as he drops into the empty seat. “I’m not even late,” he says. “Not my fault you’re anal about being early.”

Nat shoves a menu at him and sticks her tongue out like the mature adult she is. “I ordered drinks,” she says, and Bucky’s expression must go a little wrong because she adds, “Lemonade, Barnes. You’re really on edge, aren’t you?”

Bucky ducks his head. “Yeah. It’s just… it’s been a lot, you know?”

Nat nods, and then a server arrives with a pitcher of lemonade and their conversation halts for a moment while they order. And Nat gets a calzone that’s “stuffed with fresh mozzarella,” according to the menu, making Bucky raise an eyebrow.

“I’m allowed cheat days,” Nat says, and pours them both glasses of lemonade. When she speaks again, her voice is a little softer. “And you’re allowed to have a hard time with things. You moved across the country, for Christ’s sake. And you’re living alone, now, instead of with Becca. It’s a lot of change all at once. Just breathe, and it’ll work out.”

Bucky nods, and breathes, and doesn’t try to hide how much Nat’s words actually calm him. He takes a sip of his lemonade. “Having a hard time doesn’t pay the rent, though. And I only have two months’ rent left from…” He trails off, but he knows that Nat understands about the settlement, about why he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Oh! Speaking of.” Nat flashes a grin, big and bright. “If you’re up to it, a friend of mine just put out a casting call.”

“A friend?” Bucky repeats, and Nat rolls her eyes. 

“It’s a legit call,” she says. “Not a porno in disguise, I promise.” Bucky doesn’t answer, and Nat sighs. “He was the casting director for the last DC movie, Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up in a different kind of disbelief. “You’re being serious?”

Nat nods. “It’s not a guarantee, but it’s a start.”

The server comes back with their food, and Bucky takes a moment to appreciate the bubbling cheese on his pie. He grabs a slice and takes a bite and burns his mouth in the process, but it’s still _good_ and he lets out a quiet groan. After he swallows, licking his lips and opening eyes he didn’t realize he closed, he looks at Nat. “So, if he doesn’t do porn, how do you know him?”

“We go to the same gym.”

Bucky chokes on a piece of cheese, turns red, and Nat laughs. “What? It’s true. We actually started to get along pretty well after he stopped trying to correct my kettlebell form.”

Sometimes, Bucky doesn’t understand how Nat is a real person, but he doesn’t actually question any of the aspects of her life that she’s revealed to him. Vegan? Sure, current “cheat day” aside. Gym rat? Seeing her, now, for the first time, he doesn’t doubt it at all. Porn star? He’s never looked up any of her videos (and he never will) but he’s never met anyone who’s as open about sex, the good _and_ the bad of it, as she is. 

“Well?”

Bucky glances up to see Nat looking at him expectantly. “Sure,” he says, surprising himself with the answer. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go to the casting.”

Nat smiles, brilliantly, and Bucky tells himself that it’s going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has its own playlist, but is mostly inspired by Fall Out Boy's "Bishops Knife Trick," which is where I got the title.
> 
> *Disclaimer - I'm not an actor, I have never been to Hollywood, and my only experience with movies is the clips I take of my dogs. I do however have some experience/knowledge with sexual assault, and a lot of the ways Bucky deals with his trauma is modeled after how I dealt with mine (sans the porn star best friend). Feel free to critique my work, just please be kind!


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky isn’t naive, but the knowledge he has of the world doesn’t do anything to ease his mind. Because sometimes, ignorance really is bliss, especially when that ignorance is of the harsh realities of life. Because Bucky is all too intimate with those harsh realities. 

_“Are you gonna start dating again?”_

Bucky sighs, trying to decide between two shirts. The audition is in a few hours, and he’s nervous and overthinking things, including what to fucking wear.

“Eventually?” he says, but that’s apparently not the answer Becca is looking for, because she groans.

_“You keep saying that. I know you, Buck. You’re a romantic. So go be romantic.”_

The blue shirt, Bucky decides. He grabs it off the bed and pulls it on. A glance in the mirror, and then he’s pressing the phone back to his ear. “It’s hard to be romantic when I have to say ‘Hey, by the way, I’m probably going to have a panic attack the first time you touch me, so if we could just power through that…’”

_“Bucky…”_

“And,” he continues, “the ones that will stick around after that are gonna treat me like I’m broken, anyway. So, yeah. Eventually.”

Becca huffs. _“You’re not broken,”_ she says. _“Look, I’ve been doing a lot of reading about survivors of sexual assault -”_

“Becca.”

_“- and it’s important for you to feel like you have control over all aspects of your life -”_

“Becca.”

_“- which you do! I mean, you obviously do, you’re in Hollywood for fuck’s sake -”_

“Becca!”

Finally, Becca stops talking, and Bucky sighs. “I have an audition in two hours.”

There’s a pause, and then, _“Oh my god, Bucky, that’s amazing!”_

Bucky can’t help but grin at the pure _joy_ in Becca’s voice. “Yeah, it is. It really is. I’m - I’m getting there, okay? It’s just gonna take some time.”

_“Okay.”_

And just like that, Becca drops the subject, and Bucky lets her rant about the amount of homework she has for her world history class while he finishes getting ready. She’s in her second year of a teaching degree, and Bucky knows she’s going to amazing at it, because she care so damn much. And, suddenly, he misses her so much his chest aches with it. “I love you,” he says, interrupting Becca while she’s halfway through a thought about the Ming Dynasty. 

He can almost feel Becca smile through the phone. _“Love you, too,”_ she says softly. _“Miss having your stupid butt here.”_

The apartment feels a lot more empty after Becca hangs up.

Bucky spends half an hour styling his hair, or trying to, before he settles on simply putting it into a ponytail. It’s one goddamn audition, he thinks, as he gets into the Uber outside. Either he’ll get the part, or he won’t, and either way, life will go on.

He gets to the place where the auditions are being held half an hour before his scheduled time, but there’s no one waiting in the hallway when he walks in. He turns the corner, and even there there’s only one person, leaning up against the wall with earbuds in.

“Hi?” Bucky tries, maybe a little too loudly, because the guy jumps and turns, yanking out his earbuds, and Bucky gets a full view of him - blond hair, blue eyes, wide shoulders, and built like he _definitely_ uses the gym as much as Nat says he does. 

“Oh, hi!” The guy winds his earbuds around his phone and shoves both into his pocket. “You must be James, Tasha’s friend?” Bucky nods and takes the hand the guy extends. “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers. Tasha mentioned you might be more comfortable without a crowd, so I went ahead and scheduled you after everyone else. I hope that’s okay?”

The end of Steve’s sentence turns up in a questions, so Bucky nods and works his tongue in his mouth to try to fix how dry it suddenly is. He’s going to have to talk to Nat about warning him about insanely attractive casting directors. 

“Bucky,” he says, and his voice is rougher than it has any right to be. He coughs, clearing his throat. “I mean, I go by Bucky. Only my ma calls me James.”

“Bucky.” Steve smiles around Bucky’s name, and that’s just unfair. “Okay, awesome. Well, I have the script section here, so why don’t you take a minute to look over it and let me know when you’re ready?”

Bucky takes the pages Steve hands him and flips through them quickly. The parts he’s to learn are highlighted, but there’s no information on the pages about what the movie is - just the usual scene-setting directions to help make the mood. There’s no production information, either, which makes Bucky raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he reviews the lines, getting a feel for the character.

After a few minutes, he nods, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “All right, yeah. I’m ready.”

Steve looks up and flashes a blinding smile that actually stuns Bucky for a moment or two. It’s gorgeous and open and honest, and Bucky kind of wants to see it every day. Scratch that, he definitely wants to see it every day, and it would be his fucking luck that the first person he’s attracted to in months is going to be instrumental in deciding his future.

Bucky takes a breath and starts on the lines. “You haven’t told me who you are.”

Steve waves a hand. “I’m a dancer.” His voice is stupidly feminine around the words, and Bucky wants to smile, but he’s in a role now, focused and serious.

“No,” he says. “I mean your name.”

“Oh! Nina.”

“So you two are sisters?”

Steve shrugs. “Yes. Blood sisters. We dance in the same company.”

“Ah, ballerinas,” Bucky replies, nodding. “No wonder you two look alike.”

Steve grins again. “So you know, Tom and Jerry here are gay lovers.”

“I’ve never been to the ballet.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, then you’re definitely not gay.”

Bucky feels the tips of his ears turn pink, but it’s the end of the scene, so it’s okay. He rubs the back of his neck and looks over at Steve.

“Again,” the blond says, and they run it again.

“You’re holding out on me, Bucky,” Steve says, after the second time through. “I can feel it. Come on, convince me you want this!”

They go through the lines again, but Bucky has a nagging feeling in the back of his head that is making him reconsider what Steve means by “convince me you want this.” And he decides it’s fine - he does want it, and Steve seems nice enough, and the next time Bucky auditions, his casting couch partner might be a little harder on the eyes.

So they run the lines again, a fourth time, and as soon as Steve finishes the line about him not being gay, Bucky stalks forward, heart pounding in his chest as he drops to his knees in front of the blond. And Steve actually has the decency to look surprised when Bucky glances up at him, bites his lip, and says, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

His hands come up to the button on Steve’s pants at the same time that Steve’s fingers land in his hair, and Bucky has to remind himself to breathe. It’s fine. He’s choosing to be here, and Steve isn’t holding him down, pinning him with his weight, whispering in his ear about how he shouldn’t be such a goddamn fucking tease and…

“Bucky? Bucky, hey, man. It’s okay. Deep breaths.”

A little distantly, because everything feels distant at the moment, Bucky realizes that his breaths are coming in gasps, and his ass is on the floor and he’s shaking, hard. His throat feels tight, and when he reaches up to brush hair out of his eyes, he realizes that his face is wet. He’s crying. On the ground, in front of the casting director he just tried (and failed) to blow.

Mortification and nausea rise up at the same time, but then something cold is being pressed into his hands and Steve is saying, “Here, drink. Keep breathing, there you go.”

The cold something is a water bottle, and Steve’s blue eyes are riddled with concern, so Bucky drinks. It helps the nausea, but it doesn’t help how _raw_ he feels. It doesn’t help the fact that he’s a fucking idiot who just embarrassed himself in front of the guy who does casting for D-fucking-C.

“Better?” Steve asks, and all Bucky can do is nod and take another sip. Then Steve stands, and the movement draws Bucky’s eyes up, makes him see that the button on Steve’s pants is undone. He doesn’t remember doing that, but he highly doubts that Steve did.

Bucky’s shivering, he realizes absently. Steve notices, too, because a moment later, he feels something warm and heavy being put around his shoulders. Steve’s jacket. Bucky tries not to feel self-conscious about the way he pulls the worn leather around himself, wishing, more than a little, that he could just disappear into it.

“Do you want me to get Tasha?”

Bucky nods before he can talk himself out of it. The thought of getting an Uber to go home, of sitting in a stranger’s backseat, is enough to make his stomach turn. “Thanks,” he says, and then winces at the sound of his own voice. 

Steve just gives him a thumbs up, because he already has his phone pressed up to his ear. A moment later, he runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, Tasha,” he says. “Do you… yeah, he’s here. Think he had a panic attack, and I figured -” He cuts off abruptly, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “No,” he says firmly. “You… just get here, okay?” The phone goes back to his pocket, and Steve drops his head a little and apparently realizes the state of his pants, because he all but scrambles to straighten himself up. Then he turns back to Bucky, who looks away and tries to make it look like he wasn’t staring. 

“Feeling any better?”

Bucky nods, the movement jerky. “Yeah. Thanks. Nat?”

“On her way,” Steve replies. His hands keep moving, pockets to hips to holding his arms and then back again, and Bucky feels for the guy, he does, because he’s handling the situation a lot better than most other people have. The panic attack, at least. The blowjob incident is a whole new level of awful.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, nodding like he’s deciding on something. It’s how he’s taught himself to pull out of the headspace where all he wants to do is curl in on himself and cry. “Thanks,” he says again, a little more firmly. And then, “Uh, sorry.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, and he shakes his head. “No, it’s okay.I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t…”

Bucky hears a door crash open, and he winces. Sure enough, Nat comes stalking into the room a moment later, heels clicking loudly against the concrete. Her face is a storm, but her voice, when she speaks, is calm. “Hey, Barnes. You doing okay?”

Bucky nods. He lets Nat help him to his feet, clutching the almost empty water bottle in his hands. He’s mostly stopped shaking, but he’s exhausted and he just wants to go home and curl up in a ball. “Home?” he asks tiredly, and Nat nods.

“Yeah, come on. Let’s get you home.”

Bucky pointedly doesn’t look at Steve as Nat leads him outside. Just thinking about the past few minutes is enough to make his gut churn - seeing Steve’s concerned blue eyes is just going to make it worse.

They get outside and Bucky takes a long, deep breath. He’s better, but he still just wants to die a little, because he’d been prepared to not get cast, but he hadn’t expected to make such an idiot of himself.

“Stop it,” Nat says as she usher him into her car. “You’re beating yourself up for nothing. It’s okay to-”

“I tried to blow him,” Bucky interrupts. “That’s why I… why this happened.”

Nat pulls out onto the street, and then turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow, and Bucky finds himself babbling out the rest.

“I thought that was what he was getting at, you know? And I figured it wouldn’t be so bad, because he seems nice enough, and it’s not like he’s bad to look at, but I’m about 112% sure that I misread things because _he talked me through my goddamn panic attack_ , Nat. So I screwed things up royally with the guy who’s probably the only genuinely kind casting director in all of Hollywood.”

He slumps in his seat, and Nat doesn’t say anything, he knows she’s not judging him. She’s just letting him decompress, get his feet back underneath himself. And he thinks he dozes off, because one minute they’re stuck in traffic, and then next Nat’s gently touch him arm to wake him up outside his apartment complex. 

Despite the nap, Bucky feels exhausted, so he tells Nat he’s fine and thanks her for the ride and then drags himself inside his apartment. He all but collapses on the couch, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s still wearing Steve’s jacket. Groaning, he curls up into the smallest ball he can manage and tries not to think about how, for just a moment, Steve’s fingers actually felt _good_ in his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks make my day!
> 
> The scene Bucky and Steve run in this chapter is taken from "Black Swan," and Bucky is auditioning for a role that Sebastian Stan actually played!


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky lets himself mope for 24 hours. Well, he calls it moping - Nat calls it “self-care,” tries to get him to think about it like that, too, but the positive spin doesn’t change what he does. And, it’s easier to enforce the time limit if he think it’s something he needs to drag himself out of. 

So he goes to the store and buys a family-size bag of Doritos and a fruity-smelling bath bomb and pointedly doesn’t respond when the cashier tells him he’s a good boyfriend. He’ll fight toxic stereotypes another day, when he’s not feeling quite so fragile.

The bath is relaxing. Bucky actually dozes in it (Becca would kill him for that if she ever found out), and by the time he gets out, his muscles are loose and his brain is quiet and content. He posts up on the couch with the Doritos and quickly navigates to old episodes of “Mission: Impossible” on Becca’s Netflix account.

He’s watching the third or fourth cassette tape self-destruct when his mind starts wander. Inevitably, it wanders to Steve; the guy’s coat is hanging in Bucky’s closet, still, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do with it. Maybe Nat will return it for him? Maybe she’ll take pity and _not_ try to convince him to return it himself. 

Thinking about the jacket leads him to thinking about how Steve had looked without it on, the definition of his biceps, the toned, flat stomach that Bucky just knows has to be hiding under that too-small t-shirt. He thinks, briefly, about Steve’s fingers in his hair. Then he thinks about them not so briefly, because fantasies are safe, and a good self-induced orgasm sounds exactly like the type of self-care Nat would suggest.

Setting his laptop aside, Bucky puts away the ships, washes his hands, and then grabs the bottle of lube out of his bedroom. He thinks about staying there, but he’s living alone now, which means jerking off in the living room is a thing he can do. 

Pushing his pajama pants down, Bucky makes himself comfortable on the couch. Legs spread, he lets himself run his palms up his thighs, and with only a small twinge of guilt, he imagines that Steve is the one touching him, kneeling in front of him, blue eyes dark with want. He palms himself through his underwear and pretends the heat from his hand is from an exhaled breath instead.

His dick is definitely with the program, straining against the elastic of his briefs. For a moment, he considers dragging it out, teasing himself with little touches and dirty thoughts, but he can’t remember the last time he actually allowed himself to fantasize, so he rolls with that instead.

He shimmies out of his briefs and Imagines Steve tugging them down and tossing them aside. Maybe he’d kiss the insides of Bucky’s thighs, next. Maybe he’d lick the head of his cock and make it bob against Bucky’s stomach. Or maybe he wouldn’t tease at all - maybe he’d take Bucky’s entire length down at once and swallow around him.

Bucky’s hand is dry when he fists his cock, and the frictions is _almost_ good, but Bucky wants the slick slide he’s imagining. The lube is cold on his palm, but it’s warm by the time his hand goes back to his dick and…

“Oh, fuck.”

It’s _good_. Bucky throws his head back and fists his free hand in the couch cushion and thrusts up into the _hotwettight_ of his hand. There’s a warm feeling starting to curl in his gut, and Bucky would be disappointed that the end is in sight, but he’s too busy chasing the building pleasure to really care.

He gets three more strokes in before the image pops into his head, unbidden, of Steve’s defined chest painted with his come. He shudders, groans, and then his hips jerk up as he comes over his own hand and stomach. The orgasm crashes through him, heavy and unexpected, making his toes curl with the intensity of it, and he’s left panting, still gripping the couch cushion while he rides out the aftershocks.

The embarrassment only starts to settle in after he’s cleaned himself up. He does his best to ignore it. He’s a grown man, and it’s not like fantasizing about the guy is going to hurt either of them. It’s safe. And besides - he highly doubts he’s ever going to see Steve again, not after the cock-up of an audition he had. 

When he returns to the couch, his phone is blinking with a notification. He considers ignoring it, but it’s most likely Nat or Becca, and neither of those women take kindly to being ignored. So he presses the spacebar to resume “Mission: Impossible” and then picks up his phone.

There are two texts waiting. One of them is from Nat, checking in on him. He taps out a quick reply, telling her he’s indulging in self-care and they can talk tomorrow. The second, though, is from a number he doesn’t recognize. Frowning, he opens it up. 

- _Hey, Bucky. It’s Steve._ -

That’s all he gets through on the first try. Steve. Why Steve? How did he get Bucky’s number? What the hell was he texting about?

Bucky takes a deep breath, counts to five, and then looks at the message again.

- _Hey, Bucky. It’s Steve. Tasha gave me your number. I just wanted to check in to see how you were doing._ -

There’s more, but Bucky has to take another breath before he can continue. He can take a lot, but pity always gets under his skin, makes him angry more than it does anything else.

- _I think we both know you’re not a good fit for the part you auditioned for, but I can tell you have talent. A friend of mine is casting for an action flick right now, and there’s a part I think you’d be great for. Are you interested?_ -

Bucky types out ~ _Definitely_ ~ and hits send before he can think too much about it. He can almost imagine Steve’s pitiful glance, but at the same time, the offer seems genuine. And what could it hurt? At least this time, he has a pretty good grasp on what _not_ to do.

His phone buzzes a few minutes later.

- _Okay, great! I sent along your info. Sam should be in touch in a few days. He’s a good guy, I think you’ll like him._ -

Bucky wonders if ‘he’s a good guy’ is Steve’s way of saying that Sam doesn’t use the casting couch, either. 

~ _Thanks_ ~ he sends back. And then, because Steve has sent paragraphs and Bucky has sent two words, he adds a little more. ~ _I really appreciate this. Especially considering… everything._ ~

To his surprise, Steve messages back almost immediately. 

- _Nothing to consider. This town is full of scumbags. Not surprising you thought I was one of them._ -

It’s not the answer Bucky was expecting. It’s not a denial, or any stupid thing meant to comfort him. It’s just… acknowledgement, and for a moment, it leaves Bucky genuinely shocked.

~ _I didn’t. Think you were a scumbag, I mean. But I did make some blanket assumptions about the industry, I think._ ~ Bucky pauses, and then adds _~I still have your jacket, but the way. Is there some place I can bring it, or…?~_

- _Bring it to your audition with Sam. I’ll be there._ -

Of course he was going to be there. That’s just how Bucky’s luck goes, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who's followed me for any amount of time knows that I am terrible with consistency. So, I'm sorry. Again. I /am/ trying my hand at writing a book, though, which has been taking up most of my creative energy. Also, school. And I bought a house!! Life is happening to me very quickly.
> 
> Have some Bucky self-love.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam sends Bucky’s monologue the day after his conversation with Steve.

It’s a text with an attachment, a date and time, and a place. And then, ten minutes later, a -Hey, this is Sam. Steve’s friend.-

Bucky reads the monologue. 

Out of context, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. He has to Google one of the words (and it turns out that ‘kaiju’ is the Japanese word for ‘strange creature’, although that doesn’t give him much more information, and he still has no fucking clue what a ‘jaeger’ is or how it all relates to jockeying).

After an hour, he gives up and texts Steve. 

The man replies, cryptically, with - _Think Godzilla and giant fighting robots._ -

It helps. It doesn’t help _a lot_ , but it helps.

* * *

“What do you think my chances are?”

Nat raises an eyebrow, looking at Bucky over the rim of her mug. “Of _what_?” she asks, adjusting how she’s sitting on the couch so she can shove her toes under Bucky’s leg. “Being friends with Steve? Sleeping with Steve? _Dating_ Steve?” She pauses. “Getting the part? What are you trying to get, here?”

Bucky blinks. “Um.” He takes a sip of his hot chocolate, thinking. “All of the above, I guess?”

Nat doesn’t answer. Bucky groans.

“All right, fine. I guess… I guess, sleeping with him? Dating him? Something that involves touching because _holy shit_ do I want to touch him.”

“You’re gross,” Nat says, and there’s no heat in her voice. “Why don’t you ask him? After this audition decision,” she adds. “If he says no, you’ve at least updated your spank bank material, right?”

Bucky mouths the words ‘spank bank’ back at her with a look of horror on his face, and she just laughs.

“Whatever you want to call it,” she says, waving her hand. “You get my point. Worst thing Steve’s going to do is tell you no, and that’s a pretty good worst-case scenario.”

It _is_ a pretty good worst-case scenario. As unappealing as rejection is, it doesn’t seem like something Steve would be a dick about. Bucky can see it potentially being awkward, but not humiliating. 

“So,” Nat continues, wiggling her toes. “You want to have sex?”

Thumbing the side of his mug, Bucky shrugs. “In general? Not really.”

“Steve-specific?”

He laughs. “Yeah. Steve-specific, right now.”

“Well, good.” Nat sets her mug aside before squirming down farther into the couch cushions, trying to get comfortable. “Because he needs to get laid and _you_ need to get laid. And, speaking of, _I_ need to get laid.”

Bucky grins and pats her knee. “So are we going to swipe through your Tinder or what?”

“Fucking _finally_.”

* * *

“So you’re the guy, eh? You’re the guy who’s gonna run defense for me in that old rust bucket of yours?”

On the laptop screen, Becca makes a face. “Your character sounds like an asshole,” she says. “Are you seriously going to be the bad guy?”

“I think the giant lizards are the bad guys,” Bucky replies. “And Chuck’s just… grumpy cat, or something. I don’t know. Sam’s sending me the rest of the script to read through today, before I go in.”

“Chuck’s a dumb name. I like the other guy’s better. Raleigh. At least that sounds _friendly_.”

Bucky’s phone dings, cutting off his reply about how Raleigh is actually the dumb name. It’s a message from Steve, and when he clicks it open, Bucky sees that it’s a selfie of Steve giving the camera a blinding smile and a thumbs up.

- _Just started auditions_ \- the caption reads. - _You ready?_ -

Bucky stares at the photo for a good few moments, taking in the way the corners of Steve’s mouth curl, how his hair lies messily across his forehead. 

~ _Feeling pretty good_ ~ he messages back. ~ _Let me know if Mr. Right walks in before I do my lines, yeah?_ ~

- _Mr. Righter-Than-You? I think you’re safe. Sam’s excited to meet you._ -

Bucky blushes, and a moment later, he hears Becca cough. 

“Something you want to tell me, o brother mine?”

“Nope,” Bucky replies with a grin. “Can’t. Audition-related. Classified.”

Becca levels him with a look, and Bucky can’t help but laugh a little. He feels light and _happy_ , even with the anxiety of the audition hanging over him. The role feels like a good fit, and more than that, his _life_ feels like a good fit. His friendship with Nat is strong, his relationship with Becca hasn’t suffered as much as he feared it would, and Steve… well, Steve exists. 

“Bucky…”

“I met a guy,” Bucky says. He won’t give any details yet, not until he’s got a better feel of the situation. But there’s no harm in just talking about it a little, is there? Not when Becca is truly interested in his life. 

Becca blinks at him. “And?!” she says after a moment, when he fails to continue.

Bucky shrugs. “And,” he says. “That’s it. I met a guy. I like him. I think I’m going to ask him out. So we’ll see how that goes.”

“If he’s got eyes he’ll…”

“Thanks, Becca.” 

His phone dings again, but this time it’s an email from Sam with a PDF attachment.

“Gotta go,” Bucky says, and he ends the Skype call before Becca can protest.

* * *

Bucky reads the script.

He finds out that a jaeger is a giant fucking robot, and that ‘jockeying’ is what they call piloting the robots. He learns that the part he’s auditioning for it’s the main, or the love interest, but it’s not the bad guy, either (like he’d guessed, the giant lizards were the bad guys). 

Nope. Chuck is just a dick. And Bucky finds that playing him is oddly enjoyable. 

He rehearses for most of the afternoon and falls asleep watching old _old_ Godzilla movies. 

For research, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case everyone reading this isn't a HUGE fan of Pacific Rim like I am... well. Bucky is auditioning for Pacific Rim, aka my favorite movie of all time. There will be gratuitous line-reading, so bear with me. Bucky and Steve meet back up next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

“Who is this kid, anyway?”

Steve bites back the instinctive he’s not a kid that wants to jump to his lips. Sam doesn’t mean anything by it, and there’s absolutely no reason for Steve to be that protective of a guy he’s met once. No reason. 

“I don’t think he’s done anything recently,” Steve says with a shrug. It’s true - Bucky only has a handful of jobs on his resume, and they’re small ones: commercials, extra roles. That’s it. But Steve knows talent when he sees it, and under the baggage that Bucky is obviously carrying, there’s talent.

Sam picks up Bucky’s headshot, looking it over before fixing Steve with a dead, unamused look. “You’re into him.”

“No!” Steve winces, immediately, because he knows the protest was too much, too loud, too sudden. “No,” he repeats, a little more calmly. “I mean, that’s not why I want him to audition for the part.”

“Uh huh.”

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but Sam raises a hand. “I know, I know,” he says. “You’re pretty decent at separating work from your personal shit.” The hand turns to a finger, pointing directly at Steve. “He looks the part, I’ll admit. But he better be damn impressive, Rogers.”

There’s a pause, and then, “And no sex on the set!”

* * *

_“You slow me down, and I’ll drop you like a sack of Kaiju shit.”_

Bucky likes how his voice sounds around the words. It’s low and rough, and just casually threatening enough to be believable. Chuck’s character is cocky and easy to violence, but he feels strong, and it’s a nice confidence to have, even if it’s fake. It’s what Bucky loves about acting - taking on an entirely new persona, making it real for himself and for the people watching.

There are a handful of other actors in the room with him, waiting for their auditions. This one isn’t private, and he’s not the only one on the docket. In fact, Bucky is last on the list, but he doesn’t mind. He’s nervous, but it’s not overwhelming him. 

He listens to music and reads through the lines, even though he knows them by heart. It passes the time, gets him into character. 

When they call his name, he’s ready.

Steve and another guy, who Bucky assumes is Sam, are sitting at a table together. There are folders out in front of them, and some headshots, but Bucky isn’t really focused on the table. No, he’s focused on the way Steve is staring at him.

With a grin, Bucky shoves his hands into the pockets of the jacket he’s wearing. Steve’s jacket.

“All right, run the lines,” Sam says, and waves a hand at him.

Bucky rolls his shoulders back and meets Steve’s gaze straight on. “So you’re the guy, huh? You’re the guy who’s gonna run defense for me in that old rust bucket of yours?”

Maybe he imagines it. Maybe Steve’s eyes really do go dark. He’s not sure. But the other man coughs and glances down at the page in front of him. “That’s the plan.”

Bucky nods. “Good. So, when was the last time you jockeyed, Ray?”

“About five years ago.”

“What’ve you been doing for five years? Pretty important, I reckon.”

“I was in construction.” 

“Oh, wow.” Bucky’s voice is thick with sarcasm, but the exaggeration feels right. “That’s great. I mean, that’s really useful. We get into a fight, you can build your way out if it, eh, Ray?”

“It’s Raleigh.”

“Whatever.” Bucky strides forward, pausing to brace his hands on the table in front of Steve. “Look, you’re Pentecost’s bright idea. And my old man, he seems to like you. But it’s guys like you -” he pokes Steve’s chest “-that brought the Jaeger program down. To me, you’re dead weight. You slow me down, and I’m gonna drop you like a sack of Kaiju shit.”

Bucky straightens, pulling on the front of his jacket. “I’ll see you around, Raleigh.”

Then he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

* * *

“You’re an idiot.”

Bucky shrugs, taking a bite of his ice cream. Nat is over again, but it’s less for his comfort this time, and more for mutual decompression.

“I made an impression,” he says. “And I kept his jacket, so. That’s at least one more chance I get.”

Nat levels him with a look. “Idiot,” she repeats, and pokes him with her socked foot.

* * *

Sam texts him for a meeting two days later.

This time, Bucky actually is nervous. Two days is a long time. Two days is a _very_ long time to think about how he might have fucked up his second audition in a row. 

He knows an in person meeting means good things (usually), but worry is still sitting high in his chest when he arrives at the address Sam texted him. 

It’s a fancy-ass restaurant. 

Bucky’s nervous for a whole new slew of reasons as he enters the building. He spots Steve and Sam in a corner booth, hunching his shoulders as he slides past a waiter. It’s definitely not a jeans-and-leather-jacket type of place, and that is definitely what he’s wearing.

The way Steve’s eyes travel up his body makes him feel a little better, and hey, apparently there’s a first time for everything.

“Sit,” Sam says, and Bucky obeys, sliding into the booth across from Steve. “I hope you like steak, because that’s what you’re getting.

“I don’t -” Bucky begins.

 

Sam raises a hand and shakes his head. “Listen. I didn’t want to like you. Mostly because this guy - “ he jerks his thumb at Steve “- this guy _really_ likes you, and he’s right about my casting projects way too damn often. I needed a win, here.” He sighs. “And you give me no win. Steve’s streak continues. You want the part?”

All Bucky can do is nod, open-mouthed and in shock.

“Great,” Sam continues. “I’ll have the contract sent over. Try not to tweet or anything about this yet? We haven’t made any official casting announcements.”

“Speaking of casting,” Steve says. “So it’s not a surprise to you when we do announce it, your co star is Charlie Hunnam.”

* * *

Becca screams when Bucky tells her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this isn't how castings work but it's sassy so it stayed


	6. Chapter 6

- _Celebratory drinks tonight. My treat._ -

Bucky stares at that text for a long time. Nat refuses to tell him what to message back, and none of the 30-odd replies floating around in his head seem right. An hour passes, and then another, and then it’s six o’clock and Bucky still hasn’t figured out how to reply.

He sends ~ _I don’t drink._ ~ at 6:21.

At 6:25, Bucky’s phone rings, with Steve’s name lit up on the screen. 

“Hey,” he answers, and he purposefully doesn’t think about how disappointed he is to be telling Steve _no_. “Sorry, it’s just a thing I don’t…”

“ _Can I flirt with you?_ ”

Bucky closes his mouth abruptly. 

“Um,” he says after a long moment. On the other end of the line, he hears Steve let out a heavy breath.

“ _Sorry,_ ” Steve says. “ _Sorry, that was out of line. I just wanted…_ ”

Bucky can’t help but laugh, a little under his breath. “You asked,” he says. “That’s not out of line. That’s actually pretty fucking considerate.”

Steve laughs, too, tight and uncomfortable. “ _There’s a… well. Power imbalance. You know? Didn’t want it to seem like -_ ”

“I know,” Bucky interrupts. And then, “Thanks,” he says. “And yes, to your question.”

“ _Yes?_ ” Steve repeats, and then, “ _Oh!_ ”

“But I don’t do bars,” Bucky continues. “And I don’t… I’m weird, about some stuff. So. Sorry in advance for that.”

“ _Don’t apologize for being a person and having a past_ ,” Steve says, and Bucky feels a tightness in his chest. “ _I’m okay with taking things slow._ ”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “I’m not sure I am.”

* * *

Bucky’s hands are shaking, and his heart rate is through the roof, and Steve is being _so_ patient, considering the guy has been hard for the better part of 30 minutes, and is still unable to do anything about it.

To be fair, it had been Steve’s suggestion in the first place.

_”You’re nervous about how I’m going to touch you, if I’m going to try to take control. So let’s take that out of the equation.”_

So Steve is laying on Bucky’s bed, wearing only a pair of tight briefs, with his hands tied to the headboard with two silk ties. Steve’s ties. Because this was his idea.

Bucky is taking his sweet-ass time, and somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks he should feel guilty for it (he’s painfully aware that Steve is turned on, that he has been pretty much since they started this), but he’s just… not. He’s perfectly content to straddle Steve’s thighs and let his fingertips explore Steve’s bare chest.

The pad of his thumb brushes over one of Steve’s nipple, and underneath him, the blonde shudders, his eyes falling shut. His hips twitch up, just a little motion, but it’s enough to draw Bucky’s attention downward, to make his hands pull at the waistband of Steve’s underwear. 

“No rush,” Steve says, his voice tight. He’s gripping the headboard tightly, keeping himself in place even though the ties are doing it for him. Bucky feels an entirely inappropriate swell of affection in his chest. 

“I’m the impatient one here, I know,” Bucky says with a laugh. And he is. Impatient, that is. He wants to be past this, wants to be able to be okay with Steve’s hands on him. _Really_ wants to be okay with that, because Steve’s muscles are even more impressive up close and he’s pretty sure the guy could hold him up against the shower wall with no problem.

Shifting, he tugs Steve’s underwear down over his hips, tossing them aside. And now Steve is naked, completely, and Bucky is still wearing his jeans and his shirt and Steve’s jacket. Steve’s jacket. Because Steve told him to put it on and got a hungry look in his eyes when Bucky did.

Steve has that same hungry look in his eyes, now. He wants, and Bucky wants to give him everything. One day, at least. Today, this is where they’re at.

Reaching down, he wraps the fingers of one hand around Steve’s cock and strokes him, long and slow. It draws a shudder out of the other man, pulls a groan out of his chest when Bucky brushes his thumb over the purple, swollen head. 

“Please,” Steve says, and Bucky’s all a rush of movement after that.

He’s painfully hard when he pops the button on his own pants, and it’s easy to lean forward and slot his hips against Steve’s, to rub their lengths together and shiver at the friction. It’s not enough, but it’s _almost_ enough when he gets a hand around them both. 

Steve jerks his hips up, thrusting into Bucky’s hand, against him. Bucky can see him shaking, faintly, the strain of holding back finally starting to show. And that’s hot, too, in a way Bucky didn’t expect it to be at all. Seeing Steve’s self-control starting to fray isn’t nearly as terrifying as he thought it would be. And part of that has to do with the fact that the other man _is_ still bound to the bed, sure, but part of it doesn’t.

“Good?” Bucky asks, and his voice is far more breathy than it has any right to be. He twists his hand, and underneath him, Steve groans again.

“Good,” Steve replies. He arches his back, pressing farther into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky responds with another long, sure stroke. “Good, just… I’m not gonna last that much longer if you keep…”

He trails off as Bucky twists his wrist again, and then Steve’s coming between them, shooting hot, white spurts over his stomach and Bucky’s hand. The unexpected slickness makes Bucky’s hand jerk forward, hard, and a moment later Bucky is gasping over the edge, too. 

It’s too fast to be entirely satisfying, and even on the mastubation scale, it’s not one of the best orgasms Bucky has ever had. But his breaths are still uneven, and when he meets Steve’s eyes, behind the blush that’s slowly creeping onto his face, he’s smiling.

* * *

The movie doesn’t tank, but it’s not a blockbuster, either. Bucky doesn’t care. It’s his movie. His _first_ movie, because that distinction is important when not two weeks after the film is released, he gets two more roles offered. 

Steve says, “I’m not really manager material,” and puts him in contact with a guy named Nick who’s terrifying and ruthless, and who doubles the amount Buck gets offered in less than two days. It’s impressive, and, again, terrifying. 

Bucky takes both roles and Steve complains that they’re never going to see each other. 

(Except Steve rents an apartment a block away from where Bucky’s doing the majority of his shooting and they see each other every day. Every day.)

And there’s no magic fix - one set of mutual orgasms doesn’t cure Bucky of his past. But that’s fine, too. Because with Steve, Bucky doesn’t feel like he needs to be cured. He doesn’t feel broken, because on the good days, Steve touches him reverently, and on the not-so-good days, he doesn’t touch until Bucky feels centered in his skin again. 

They revisit the ties, once or twice, but the jacket stays in the closet, because as it turns out, leather is hard to clean, and Bucky can only deal with so many judgemental stares from dry cleaners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... that's it for this one!
> 
> I promise I'll finish writing the next multi-chapter fic _before_ I start posting it...
> 
> If you've got a prompt (song, pairing, trope, etc) drop it in the comments and I'll add it to my ever-growing list of things I need to write. It's a long list, folks.
> 
> And yes, I changed my username!


End file.
